A Game of Hunters
by JenniferofHouseStark
Summary: Crowley approaches the Wincester brothers with a case from somewhere called Westeros….
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

"You'll be meeting with a woman called Cersei Lannister," Crowley began.

"_Cersei?_" Dean was unimpressed, "Are we going to Shakespeare times or ancient Greece?"

"Watch it princess," Crowley replied, "I may be the King of Hell but _she_ is the Queen of Seven Kingdoms, with quite a temper. I wouldn't piss her off. Well… _I _would, as Hell is bigger than all her Kingdoms put together, but you two really shouldn't. As bloody gorgeous as she is, she will most likely cut your privates off and wear them for a necklace."

"And of course helping out people who wanna cut off my dick is _exactly _what I do," Dean scoffed, "What's this bitch's problem?"

"She has an issue that requires, shall we say, boys of your profession," Crowley explained, leaning back, "I'd sort it out for her myself, but what with the Targaryens having words such as Fire and Blood, I prefer to leave this one unsinged."

"Unsigned? What's that supposed to mean?" Sam chuckled, unusual for him in Crowley's presence.

"Well, House Targaryen has an even worse temper than our golden haired bitch Queen," Crowley sighed as if this was just another day at the office, "And they have dragons."

"_Dragons?" _Dean snapped. He could remember Bobby asking whether to call Hogwarts when they last had to deal with that kind of crap.

"Yes, you know, scaly things, a bit like huge fire-breathing lizards? This Daenerys girl has three. The Queen would like you to kill them before she can cross the Narrow Sea with them."

"This uh…Dannyris…"

"Well done, Dean! I can see you'll fit in perfectly amongst the peasants of the Westeros! Can't even pronounce their names, fan-bloody-tastic!" Crowley's voice was thick with sarcasm as usual.

"Cut the crap, you son of a bitch. Where do we find this Dragon lady?"

"She is currently ruling over a city called Mereen, which, from Westeros, is only accessible by boat, across the Narrow Sea."

"No planes?" Sam asked, opening up his laptop. Crowley gave him a smirk.

"Quite right Moose, no planes. Westeros is not exactly… up to date with the rest of us."

"The hell does _that _mean?" Asked Dean.

"That means have fun boys, and tell Cersei that Crowley sends his love."

"Before you go skipping off back to hell," Dean growled, "You're telling me we're going back to some 14th century funhouse to take out a bunch of dragons in case Disney Princess Daenerys makes it back home in time for the joust?"

"Yes," Crowley said with an unnaturally bright smile, "And you get brownie points each time you get her name right."


	2. Chapter 2

A Clash of Faiths

_Cas, wherever you are, you've gotta come now, buddy. Wherever the hell we're going, it can't be without you. _

Dean could hear the desperation in his mind as he prayed, and didn't know why he was afraid. They had guns, they had each other. There was rarely a time when they didn't have knowledge. So they needed protection. And Crowley, being Crowley, had said nothing of the sort. That son of a bitch. Then he heard the voice.

"Hello, Dean." There he was. The weary, dark face and the filthy coat gave Castiel a distinctive edge wherever he went.

"Have you seen Crowley?" Cas asked. Dean did a double take.

"You know about this crazy ass mission he's pulled us into?"

"More than that. I've seen this Westeros. It is a barren land of countryside and foulness."

"Yeah okay skip the poetry, Cas, just tell me. Will you come with us? We can't go to this place without protection."

"You will need more than protection in a country as corrupt as this one, Dean. The people of Westeros are divided by civil war. Cersei Lannister barely has a grip on the country after the War of the Five Kings and her eldest son was poisoned at his own Wedding. Crowley wants you to act in her favour, but Daenerys has her own reasons for wanting to take the Seven Kingdoms. Every player of this game has their own sides of good and bad. Don't trust Crowley to listen to just one."

"Come on Cas," Dean replied, "When have we _ever _really trusted Crowley?"

"Regardless, there are more than just these two women to be weary of. Dozens of sides and stories are all playing their own part in what they call the Game of Thrones. I think you should see all of them before making your choice of who to fight for."

Cas had told them he would show them all those worth meeting in Westeros, but this was a lie. Even just remembering the red eyes made him shudder. He could see them before him, when she had moved close to him.

"There is much fear in you, Castiel," She had spoken, her voice dangerously soft. She raised a palm and cupped his cheek. "You should burn it away. Give yourself to R'hllor. The Lord of Light loves his children much more than any false God can ever claim to."

"You have no power over this body, Melisandre," Castiel's voice was like stone. The name was like an incantation, as if Dean were speaking in Latin releasing a demon.

_Think of Dean, _he had told himself, _think of him. Think of his eyes. _

Melisandre gave him a smile so well veiled he doubted himself.

"You are right, I do not," She said calmly, "The Lord merely uses me as a tool for his voice. We are all pieces on his board. You cannot hope to outrun him. R'hllor sees all, Castiel. You do not have faith like you did when you first began on your road."

"What road?" Castiel snapped. He knew what she would say. _Before you met Dean. _

"The path the Lord has laid out for you."

"There is only one God, Priestess, and he does not corrupt helpless innocents the way you do. I have seen what your King Stannis has become under your influence. The Holy Father would never let this happen."

_He might do, I don't know. I have never met him, and she knows it. She knows I doubt his existence. _

"There are two Gods, Castiel," Melisandre declared in a whisper, "A God of life and light and joy, and the Other. We do not speak his name."

"My Faith is not afraid to call our God by his name, at least," Castiel gave her a cynical look. She stepped closer to him. He could feel heat coming from her body, and then there was the Ruby at her throat. It pulsated in the light, like blood in her veins.

"Your Angels cannot stand against his fire. You need the light, Castiel. These brothers you are sending beyond Valyria cannot hope to survive without the Lord's fire. You need this." She took his face in her hands, and he could not refuse her, no matter how much he tried to think of Dean,

"For the Night is Dark and Full of Terrors."


	3. Chapter 3

A Storm of Angels

Slowly, the brothers made their way through the walkways. The common people were all dark skinned, some wearing robes, some wearing rags, some wearing nothing at all. Prostitutes gave them knowing smiles and tried to beckon them close with a finger. Dean always looked poised to go over and indulge them, but Sam placed a hand on his shoulder and warned him:

"Remember what Cas said."

At the mention of Cas' name Dean stopped. He always seemed unsure of himself around women if he was thinking of Cas at the same time. He never could understand why.

"Crowley wants you to meet with Cersei Lannister," Cas had told them, "Do not listen to him. This Lannister woman barely holds onto what power she has. I would feel better off if you were to go East, across the Narrow Sea to Slaver's Bay. In the City of Meereen, a young woman they call the Mother of Dragons rules as Queen."

"The _what?" _Dean was even more cynical with Cas than he had been with Crowley. Cas continued.

"She is struggling with her power as Cersei is, but she has better friends, wiser and more honourable serving her. Outside the city is the encampment of her enemies, but hidden amongst them is a man who I believe you should meet. Stay low, don't attract attention, and stay safe."

Then the brothers had felt the touch of Cas' fingers upon their foreheads, and immediately found themselves standing on boiling sand, surrounded by clouds of dust and the flapping folds of tents. The heat was encompassing, so much so that Sam nearly felt himself give way, until Dean steadied him. Above them the sky was the deepest blue, with a blinding sun silhouetting the enormous pyramid of Meereen beyond the walls of the city.

Upon the agreement to split up and meet again in an hour, Dean had left Sam and took to strolling through the shade of the Yunkish camp. He passed an endless line of people with collars round their necks all waiting to draw water from a well.

"If she knew anything about sieges she would have known to poison the wells," He heard one old man say reproachfully.

"Our _Mhysa _would never do such a thing," A child disagreed, "She will come forward from her city of coloured brick and smash our chains."

A few of the water-seekers began eyeing Dean with a hostile manner; he took it as his sign to leave. Once more he found himself wandering closer to the brothels of the camp. With a light interest he watched the whores with their olive skin and large hazel eyes, every pair looking at him up and down.

_If I wanted to be hidden away, where would I go? _

He ducked past some of the women who gazed after him with a delighted smile, and into the darkness of the tent. Both women and men were everywhere, some drinking, some gambling.

As Dean began to weave his way through sweaty bodies and the powerful smell of wine, he tried to think.

_How would I dress, if I wanted to be hidden away. Like everyone else, genius. _

Out of the corner of his eye Dean noticed a man seated at one of the tables who hadn't put his cup down since he arrived. A hideous scar with an infectious colour had disfigured his face, leaving him without a nose. As he peered closer Dean realised the man had one eye black and the other green. He nearly felt embarrassed enough to look away when they found him.

"By all means, stare, my friend," The voice was eloquent, and the last kind of tone he had expected to hear, "Most stare in revulsion; it's quite enjoyable to have someone merely curious."

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked. His new friend gave him a look he couldn't read, and got to his feet. A dwarf was the least strangest of things he was bound to see in a place called Essos; considering all else he had seen in his life, he paid it no mind.

"Is that it? You're short? Ain't it got nothin' to do with your face?"

A bemused smirk crossed the dwarf's face.

"The last straight-talking man I met turned out to be a killer who ended up a married Lord in a castle," He remarked, "May I have your name, good man?"

"Dean Wincester," Dean gave it, "And you?"

"I am Tyrion of House Lannister," The dwarf gave his name with a sarcastic sort of pride, reaching for his cup, "And I am also the God of tits and wine."

"_Now _we're talking," Dean perked up, and took a seat as Tyrion sat down again.

The black and green eyes passed over Dean's clothes.

"Low born, I believe… never knew your father, mother was probably a whore…" Tyrion mused.

"Shut the hell up." Dean's voice became hard. No mother who gave her life for her children against a _demon _could be low. No man who called Mary Wincester a whore lived. The Colt was cold in his hand. Its barrel rested perfectly still on the edge of the table, pointed at Tyrion Lannister. The dwarf himself stared at it with curiosity. After taking another swig of wine he asked,

"And what is this charming device?"

Dean said nothing. Above Tyrion's head there was a tapestry hung on the wall of the tent. The trigger slid backward smoothly, and the Colt went off with a thunderous sound. Tyrion went as still as a block of ice, his eyes wide with fright. Dean gave him a grin. The poor bastard looked as though he had had a heart attack. Slowly, ever so slowly, Tyrion turned his head. He was still weary of the Colt, which had a small trail of smoke curling from its barrel. There was a small, perfect circular hole where the bullet had gone through in the tapestry. The sound still echoed in the tent, and all throughout the camp, it seemed. An eerie silence followed, which Tyrion did not fail to note, although he could do nothing about it, for Dean still had the Colt pointed at him.

_Tread carefully with this one, _Tyrion told himself, _best not to mention the Mother again. _

"I apologise…" He ventured cautiously, "…for the offence I have given."

"I don't give a rat's ass," Dean replied, his mind made up, "You're coming with me."


	4. Chapter 4

A Feast for Demons

"Dean?! What the hell are you doing?!"

Sam had walked into the same tent only to find Dean dragging a small man out by the collar, the Colt pressing into his neck.

"We're going to see this Dragon Queen," Dean announced, "And her pets are gonna have a snack."

"I can assure you, my friend," Tyrion was spluttering, "I honestly meant no offence."

"If you didn't mean it you wouldn't have goddamn said it," Dean spat at him.

"Why?" Sam asked, always the calm one, "What did this guy say?"

"He called our Mom a whore." Dean's voice was harder than Sam had ever heard it. Suddenly he didn't seem to mind what happened to this man.

"How can we get into the city?"

* * *

They had spent the rest of the day scouring the outer walls of Meereen- to no success. Tyrion Lannister had been dragged and pushed around on the sand like a whipped dog, all the while the strange weapon being held against the back of his neck. In the heat the metal of it was burning his skin. If he didn't get a drink soon he couldn't say how long he would last.

"If you keep this up those poor Dragons may die of starvation," He noted.

"You're three seconds away from spending the rest of your life with a bullet in your head," Dean warned him, after a hard smack across that noseless face. Not that Dean was interested in what Tyrion thought, but the dwarf couldn't have been more interested in finding out what made this man in bizarre clothing tick.

_And I've love to know where he got that peculiar weapon from. _The names of these men were Sam and Dean Winchester, Tyrion had picked up, as well as the essential part of their relationship. Several times they had mentioned to each other about several particular people, the most referred being this Castiel and Crowley. Dean in particular seemed to have an attachment to the former; his voice changed to one of desperation and admiration whenever he spoke of Castiel. Neither of them ever spoke of Crowley with affection.

_I wonder if Dean will ever learn to speak to me with affection. Most likely not. _

A thud and dust flying into his face brought Tyrion out of his thoughts. The brothers had found a loose brick which lead into the darkness, and inevitably out onto the other side, into the Silver Queen's city.

The crawl way was so constricting and smelled so foul Tyrion believed he might retch.

_Must be above the sewers. This one must have loved his mother dearly. _Yet somehow Tyrion wondered, the other brother, Sam, wasn't as offended. Clearly he had not known his Mother as well as Dean.

_Maybe I can get to the other one easier. _

He was now being dragged out from the tunnel into the shadows of the wall, the different colours once more making his eyes ache.

_If I had managed to get in here on my own I would be a free man. _Tyrion stared up at Dean with curiosity. _But all the same I don't fancy having one of those strange little balls lodged in my head. Somehow I don't think I would survive that, even with a brain of my talents. _

"Hey, keep the hell up," Dean yanked him onward, the cold bottom of the weapon nearly piercing his skin.

"So what about you?" Tyrion directed his attention to Sam, "I take it you didn't know your mother as well as your brother did."

"That's none of your business," Sam replied.

"You're quite right, it is not," Tyrion continued, as the three of them slipped through the city, "But I am curious, and you didn't seem to react as harshly as this one, which has to suggest that you weren't as acquainted with her as your brother. I do have some experience in that element, by the way."

"What do you mean, that element?" Sam asked, with caution.

"I never knew my mother either, if it's any consolation." Tyrion's voice was quiet. It wasn't often that he used his dead mother as a tactic, but freedom was becoming more and more costly nowadays. Plus it was good to keep his hatred of Jamie and Cersei fuelled in any method necessary. Anything to keep his mind active when he had no access to wine.

_I wouldn't mind taking that weapon to those two. No one must ever come between my brother and sister. _

They were nearing the pyramid, the colossal structure that towered over the city and the shores of Slaver's Bay. Dean was uninterested in subtlety; as long as he was standing nearby when the dragons made a meal of this son of a bitch, he was happy. Cas and his precious Queen would have to wait- this was personal. After splitting up to observe the security around the pyramid, Sam had reported back to find he had found a weakness, lightly guarded. All they had to do was slip inside. All in all, they had no proof that the dragons were in the pyramid, but surely one that called herself the _Dragon Queen_ wouldn't keep them far.

"They must stand guard in shifts…" Dean and Sam consulted, "In between the change we can overtake them and get in, and see where the dragons are kept."

A stern voice broke through.

"And what is your interest in the queen's dragons?"

The brothers turned, Tyrion in tow, to face a much older man with a snow white beard- and a sword on his hip. He looked old enough to be their grandfather, but something in the way he placed his hand on the handle warned that he could still fight.

Tyrion had travelled halfway across the world and seen slaves, turtles, Stonemen and even a Targaryen pretender, but Barristan Selmy was the last one he had expected to see in Meereen, serving Daenerys Targaryen. The old knight wore the gleaming armour and white cloak of the Kingsguard.

_Or it would be Queensguard here, I suppose. I wonder what our golden brothers will make of him. Or rather, what Selmy will make of their charming little instrument. Not even Barristan the bold can move quicker than that. _

"Give me your reasons," Selmy drew his sword, "And I'll take you to the Queen alive. Are you Sons of the Harpy?"

"Hey buddy…" Dean raised the Colt at him, "Stay out of this."

"What is that you are carrying?" Selmy demanded, then his glare found Tyrion. "_Lannister?_ What in Seven hells are you doing here?"

"I could ask you that same question, good ser," Tyrion replied with a snake-like grin, "A knight in the queensguard, eh? Trying to regain that honour stained with the blood of the Mad King?"

The face of the knight darkened.

"You guys know each other?" Dean snapped.

"Forget that," Said Sam, glancing at the Colt still pointed at Selmy, "Look at the way he's dressed, like Sir Lance-a-lot, he's gonna know where the dragons are. And he's gonna take us."

"You have one last chance…ser," Selmy took a step forward.

"So do you." Dean fired.

* * *

A/N: To the guest review who told me to fuck off for writing and exploring my passion: fuck off yourself. Not sure if it was meant as praise or condemnation, but it was rude. To everyone else, thank you for your patience and reviews, follows and favourites! I think I know where this one is going…


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